


Learn Your Wicked Ways

by TheWritingMustache



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Caesar's Legion, Developing Relationship, F/M, Multi, Sex, heel-face turn, morally grey courier, wild card courier
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-08-20
Packaged: 2018-11-19 11:10:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11312163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWritingMustache/pseuds/TheWritingMustache
Summary: Met again out on the Strip, Nipton long behind them. Brought the Mark of Caesar, gave her safe passage to their lands, had someone she was looking for. She came along alright, but maybe Benny wasn't the only reason she showed up to the Fort that day.His long puppy-dog face and sad blue eyes drive even Couriers crazy, it seems. They had that in common, innocent on the outside, but a certain bloodlust on the inside. It started out sweet sure, but you can definitely say it didn't stay that way.





	1. The chance

**Author's Note:**

> i always have and forever will be courier/vulpes trash and i wont be stopped, ive been wanting to write this damn thing for years and well you know what, i finally did it, yeeeee haaaaaw

She was a curious creature from the moment they met. From the very moment she walked in to their scene of death and chaos, Vulpes’ attention was from then on, focused on her. He was lounging on the steps of the Nipton Town Hall, admiring the handiwork of his and his men, that fool Swanick having just ran off with his freedom. In the light of the fires, a figure approached them in the growing dusk of night. They waited patiently, curiously, perhaps Swanick had returned for some bizarre reason?

But no, instead, it was…A lithe figure in a bright, blue vault suit with scraps and pieces of armor strapped on. A floating, ball shaped robot hung back just over new arrival’s shoulder, beeping loudly as they approached. The figure paused before them, glancing between the men assembled in front of the hall, and the men strung up on crosses lining the road. They reached up to reassuringly pat the robot, then reached to their wrist to flick off the tunes crooning from the Pip-Boy they had on.

A Vault Dweller, way out here, in Nipton of all places. Now this, was something entirely different. Still, Vulpes grinned as he heaved himself off the Town Hall steps to meet the Vault Suit-clad figure half way. The figure and their companion approached cautiously. In the firelight, Vulpes could see them more clearly. Platinum blonde hair pulled back in a long braid, with amber eyes glinting in the dim light. Their face was narrowed, yet soft, and the Vault Suit clung to their lithe frame like a second skin, small breasts protruding lightly through the spandex.

 _’A woman,’_ was Vulpes’ first thought. This should be interesting. Steeling his face, Vulpes stepped out to greet her, with the immortal words of their first meeting, so romantic, so passionate, words that would forever be burned into her mind like the townsfolk of Nipton burned at their pyres-

“Don’t worry, I won’t have you lashed to a cross like the rest of these degenerates. It’s useful that you happened by,” he said to her in a cool, silky tone. One of her brows arched up to her hairline, her lips pursing together as her eyes narrowed at him.

“Is it now?” the Vault Dweller asked in a honey laden voice, more of a purr than anything. A smile pulled at the corners of Vulpes’ lips, and he fought to keep a straight face, to keep up the game, to stay with it. What he said was true, he wasn’t going to have this random passerby strung up, nor was he to give the order to his men to take her along with them. There was something about her…Something they could use her for…A better use than some pretty faced sex doll that most men of the Legion would end up using her for.

“Yes, it is,” Vulpes nodded. “I want you to witness the fate of the town of Nipton, to memorize every detail. And then, when you move on? I want you to teach everyone you meet the lesson that Caesar’s Legion taught here, especially any NCR troops you run across.”

“Lesson?” the pretty Vault Dweller echoed back, her amber eyes dancing back and forth between him, the crucified, and the ones who’s skeletons were burning atop piles of tires. “…Do I have to include the fires, or will a simple message suffice?”

Vulpes couldn’t help but chuckle. Smart girl, play to his better interests, but also not outright refuse. Though had she, Vulpes felt confident that one way or another, the ultimate end of Nipton would reach the ears of the Bear, and strike fear in their hearts regardless.

“The message will be fine, the lesson being that town’s like Nipton, full of debase and corrupt degenerates have no place in the world of the Legion. That Caesar has no mercy for godless heathens such as these.”

“Heathens? A strong word,” the Vault Dweller said. “…But I suppose it’s too late now to debate that. Sure, I’ll pass the message along. The NCR will be _dying_ to hear it.”

“Good, good,” Vulpes purred approvingly. “See to it that they do. Vale, profligate. Until we meet again.” He signaled for his men to move out, and his troops began to walk off, some of them casting glances back at the Vault Dweller as they did. His years of Legion upbringing told him that they all thought her to be a beautiful prize, surely she would fetch a high price on the auction block.

But his intuition told him to let the girl go, this one anyway. Cause while she didn’t have a menacing physique, didn’t have the mouth like most women of the Mojave did…It was in her eyes that spoke about her the most. In days to come, those amber eyes would be burned into his mind, sending shivers down his spine. The eyes that belonged to an intelligent adversary.

That, and the ugly wound poking out from under her hair by the temple. Surely no one got away with that kind of injury and lived to tell the tale. Vulpes wouldn’t know the details until by happenstance, while flipping through the radio stations (perfect for gathering intel that even he wasn’t privy to on an immediate basis) that the bombastic voice of the radio DJ cheerfully announced,

_”A package courier found shot in the head near Goodsprings has reportedly regained consciousness, and has made a full recovery. Now that is a delivery service you can count on.”_

It made Vulpes wonder about her.

 

**x-X-X-x**

 

He almost forgot about her, as the days turned to weeks, and he heard no whisper of the pretty faced Vault Dweller since he saw her at Nipton. Vulpes had more pressing matters anyway, reports, patrols, espionage. He tuned into the radio occasionally, mainly to keep an ear open about the going ons of the Mojave. And by the Gods, things had been getting…Interesting to say the least since he and his men wiped out Nipton.

_"A hostage crisis between the NCR and the Great Khans was resolved peacefully, when a third party negotiator successfully secured the hostage's release.”_

_"Several unidentified aircraft were spotted flying over the REPCONN Test Site by a local crackpot. He spoke to a toy bear near one of our microphones.-“_

_”Residents report briefly seeing a column of heavenly light coming out of the sky. Apocalypse predictors haven't been this excited since the war.”_

_"According to a new report, violent crime is on a sharp decline in New Vegas. The report credits the decline of the population of Fiends in the area.”_

The only real information that Vulpes could get was from one of his frumentarius, Picus, a spy planted within the NCR ranks at their base outside New Vegas, Camp McCarran. Picus’ reports were startling to say the least. A… _courier_ of all people, was apparently becoming a third party, vigilante justice type that was running around and helping literally every single person she could. Usually accompanied by a different companion every time, her ensemble…questionable to say the least.

Reports included a stiff man with an NCR First Recon beret, a Follower of the Apocalypse, drunken caravan leader, a ghoul in a mechanic’s suit, a peppy girl in robes, and a _Nightkin_ , all followed by either an eyebot or a cyborg dog. This Courier herself? Hair almost like the snow atop Mt. Charleston, eyes like the sun, and a honeyed tongue that could twist words in a way that, if the reports were true, could put Vulpes’ own persuasive way of speaking to shame.

But it was her. This Courier…It was the Vault Dweller. And she was becoming a huge pain in their ass. Reports went from her being the saving grace of the Legion to infuriating reports of her liberating Camp Nelson, and the last one Vulpes read from Picus was that she was investigating a possible spy situation within Camp McCarran because that fool Silus couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut.

Then that was it. The reports stopped coming in. Silence. And the only way Vulpes found out what had happened was from the damned radio. Guilt and regret clawed at his heart, as he knew that, if he had _just_ taken her then, back in Nipton, much of this could have been avoided. It did not ease the many worries already weighing on his Lord’s mind either. Vulpes would repeat back what he was told, and he could feel the frustration brewing.

Lucius called for the Courier’s head, how dare this profligate woman oppose the Legion with no repercussions as of yet. But Caesar, mighty and wise, did nothing as of yet, looking for a way to turn this situation around and benefit them instead.

The answer, quite thankfully, came in the glimmering, hopeful form of no one other than Benny Gecko of the New Vegas Chairmen. The guards had caught him in the middle of camp, attempting to break into the weather monitoring station there, and he was quickly bound and brought before Lord Caesar.

Interestingly enough, he had little on his person. A golden pistol, and a poker chip. A poker chip made of platinum with the insignia of the Lucky 38 on it. Benny had apparently been trying to use the console inside the station, but was intercepted before he could get any further. When questioned about the significance of the chip, Benny was less than helpful.

“Look paly, I ain’t gonna tell you shit. But I will tell ya that it’s reaaaal important, and if you don’t let me go, you’re gonna have a much bigger problem on your hands than me,” Benny warned. “That Courier broad is gonna flay me alive if she finds me here, and trust me, that doll don’t know when to give up.”

What a delightfully interesting piece of information.

“My Lord,” Vulpes addressed Caesar. “I believe I know the best way to finally gain an audience with our _favorite_ delivery girl.”

He grinned widely at his Lord, saying no more, as Caesar shot him back an ugly sneer, one that understood all too well what he was getting at.

“You skirt-wearing weirdos are nuts!” Benny cried. “Don’t do it, man! She’s gonna eat ya all for breakfast after she’s done with me!”

A slap across Benny’s face echoed throughout the tent, the Chairman gasping in pain as he fell to his side.

“Vulpes, go find this stupid bitch and get her ass over here,” Caesar ordered. “I wanna see what makes and breaks this kid for myself.”

“As you wish, my Lord,” Vulpes saluted. He wanted to see her too, but for different reasons. It was high time for a reunion with his pretty faced Vault Dweller.


	2. Fox in the hen house

She was sitting at a decrepit slot machine in the middle of the Tops. Impressively cold blooded, drive out the casino owner and laze about in his old domain, taking it for her own. She looked as beautiful as ever, her face wiped clean of the grime and dirt of the wasteland, light colored hair pulled back into a large bun. She sat there, very nonchalant, cranking the side of the machine, watching the slots roll by with an almost bored expression. But Vulpes could see the stress weighing her shoulders down, the way her brow was furrowed, the slight clench of her jaw.

“Any luck?” Vulpes drawled as he sat down on the empty stool beside her.

“It’s alright,” the Courier answered simply, amber eyes flicking over to him. “Could be better, could be worse. You know how it goes.”

“Can’t be too confident, yes,” he nodded. He didn’t reach up to try and play the game, just steadily held gazes with her. “….Do you remember me?”

“I think so?” she replied, looking him up and down. “You’re….the man from Nipton, right? With the coyote hat?”

“Yes, indeed,” Vulpes chuckled. “Glad I could be so memorable.”

“I liked that hat,” the Courier sighed. “Dunno who I have to kill to get one, but I want it.”

“Ideally no one. The Legion is not pleased with your actions against us.”

“Oops.”

Vulpes blinked in subdued surprise. Oops? That was all she had to say about that in the most bored, carefree way? _Oops._

“Well,” Vulpes started. “Good news for you, my Lord is willing to overlook these transgressions.”

“Oh yeah?” the Courier quirked a brow at him. “What for?”

“We have something you want. And someone. The two things you’ve crossed the breadth of the Mojave for.”

A delicious shiver ran down his back as her eyes practically changed. Those bright, amber eyes suddenly narrowed and hardened, a predatory look. He knew that look all too well, no doubt he had done the same many times before.

“Let’s go talk more privately,” the Courier stated as she rose from her seat. Vulpes followed suit, and let her lead the way.

They ended up in the presidential suite of the hotel, a large, lush room, fit for a king for sure. The Courier motioned for him to sit down, and Vulpes parked himself against the cushions of one of the couches. The Courier joined him a minute later, two opened bottles of beer in each hand. He looked up at her in minor disbelief and annoyance.

“I don’t drink,” he said cooly.

“You do now,” The Courier replied, offering a bottle to him.

“I have no reason to be mistrustful with you, Courier. There’s no need to liquor me up to make me talk.”

“Then take it,” she insisted, waving the bottle in front of him. “Trust goes both ways, Doghead.”

Fair enough then. She was wise, knew how to play this game. Saying nothing more on the matter, Vulpes accepted the beer at last, and waited for her to sit down in one of the armchairs adjacent from him.

“So, let’s get to know one another, build up that trust a little,” the Courier suggested, lounging in her chair comfortably. “First off, what’s your name, handsome?”

“Vulpes Inculta, head of the Frumentarii. Yours? And I doubt it’s just Courier.”

“But everyone seems so fond of calling me that,” she smirked. “Or…concerned citizen, or….Armed civilian. Much more dignified titles….But if it’ll really tickle your pickle, you can just call me by my name…Betha.”

Vulpes let out a snort.

“I know, I know, it’s not the most terrifying name, sorry if I’m disappointing you.”

“It’s delightfully simple, given all your reported exploits,” Vulpes grinned. “…What happened to my man in McCarran?”

“Oh, was he yours?” Betha feigned shock. “Sorry about that then. Don’t worry, he died quickly the same way I should have.” She stuck out her index finger, with her thumb sticking straight up, and placed it near her temple- Her healed wound in particular. She let out a small “pow” and flicked her thumb down.

“It’s what he would have gotten had he escaped and returned to me anyway,” Vulpes shrugged. “I’m sure you’re aware that we don’t take failure kindly in the Legion.”

“And yet, Silus is still sitting in a cell, happy as a clam.”

“Yes, what of our friend Silus? How is he, I’ve been _dying_ to see him again.”

“Convinced that the Legion will fall, that your boss ain’t the hot shit everyone thinks he is. Thinks he’s untouchable while in NCR custody. Stuff like that.”

“He’s a fool if he thinks he’ll leave the Mojave alive. But we’ll take care of that….Ah, but speaking of fools…”

“Oh yeah, right. The whole reason you’re here….What do you want exactly.”

“My Lord wishes an audience with you, perhaps you could make an exchange with him. Your crimes against us will be expunged, in exchange for your prized belongings; a platinum chip and a man in a stupid suit.”

“Why do you have him? What’s so important?”

“That’s what we want to know too. We’re holding him currently, and he won’t say what he’s after. But most curiously, he seems to fear you more than us. I can only wonder as to why.”

“I mean, I did rise from the literal grave to hunt him down for a fucking poker chip. I’d be pretty damned scared of me too.”

Vulpes chuckled at that, taking a chance sip from his beer. “And fear you he does. How delightful it’d be if you showed up to claim what was rightfully yours.”

“So, what you’re saying is...You want specifically _me_ to head into the heart of Legion territory, me the enemy who has sacked your camps, a woman...To come strolling on over to collect the chip and Benny’s life...And you’ll let me walk away in the end, completely unharmed?”

Vulpes blinked slowly, thought about it, and nodded because well…. _yeah_. She had a very fair point, but thankfully Vulpes came prepared, for his Lord was wise and foresightful. From his jacket pocket, he procured a medallion, the symbol of the Legion bull engraved on it, and a chain snaked through the top of it. Betha eyed him cautiously as he held it out to her.

“This is the mark of Caesar. Wear it, and it shall grant you safe passage through our camps. Additionally, my Lord has pardoned you of your crimes against the Legion...For now. Any slights against us from here on out will not be excused, so take this wisely.”

Betha still eyed him suspiciously, but reached out and took the mark regardless.

“Thanks, I guess,” the courier murmuerd. “....So that’s it? You just wanted to give me this and be on your merry way?”

“Ideally,” Vulpes said. “Unless you honestly plan to kill me now regardless of the olive branch I’ve just offered you. It would be most unwise of you to attempt it.”

“Oh no, I wasn’t gonna do thaaaat,” Betha rolled her eyes. “I’m vengeful, not stupid. I’m just saying, you got a lot of balls coming in here like this.”

“Societal convention is a bit of a bitch, isn’t it?” Vulpes sneered at her. She sneered right back, and he couldn’t help but adore the the crinkle of her nose, the way her lips stretched back, the playful glare in her eyes. She looked so relaxed in her chair, yet he could see how tensed her muscles were, ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.

Was she anticipating something from him? A fight? He could see no weapons on her person at the moment, but it wouldn’t surprise him if she had one hidden somewhere in that dress of hers. Or hidden amongst the furniture, or perhaps the hotel guards about to barge in and gun him down, anything was possible.

“Get out of here,” the courier ordered. “And don’t let me catch you in here again.”

A wise decision on her part. Vulpes set his awful beer down and rose from his seat. “Courier,” he tipped his hat to her. He walked himself out, down the elevator, through the casino, and out into the streets of the Strip. Night had long since fallen, yet it felt almost as bright as day with all the bright flashing lights and neon of New Vegas. He traveled out of the gates of the city and into Freeside, a cautious hand at his hip, ready to pull his ripper in the event that any of the dissolute should dare attack him. 

Farther and farther he went into Freeside, passing many, but none approached. He made it to the gates with no incident, but it was not Fortuna keeping him safe tonight. He had not been unaware to the presence that shadowed him through the streets, the thrill of the chase beginning to course its way through his veins. But, in the delightful twist of being chased, being hunted.

Well, if a chase was wanted, then a chase it would be. He wouldn’t make it easy on her.


	3. Then they fucked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dont need an excuse and neither do any of you

Outer Vegas was almost quiet, ruined buildings creaking where they stood, a distant howl of a coyote and the echo of far off gunfire. But they were alone, the two of them. He was curious to see where he could lead her, skirting around the walls of the city to the west. They picked their way there, dodging between houses and abandoned factories, between patrolling gangs of remaining fiends and other raider types.

Eventually stopped at a large, gray building, a lone raider sitting outside the door, dead before either he or Vulpes could draw a weapon, a bang from a gun behind his shoulder taking care of that. Vulpes slipped inside into the gloom of the first floor, weak lights flickering from the ceiling. There was a shout, another raider in the hall. His ripper was in their throat before they could shout again, their only warning to their other comrades a gurgle.

The hall erupted into shouts and gunfire, with the motor of his ripper roaring in between. In the end, it was just them two, he, and his pretty-faced courier who had tailed him all the way there. No longer wearing her cocktail dress, traded in for light armor and light traveling clothes, hair slipping free from her bun. She was unharmed, loading up a beautifully engraved, black revolver. He was a little worse for wear, blood on his suit, dirty from traveling, but just as healthy as she.

They holstered their weapons, just in time for Vulpes to shove her to the wall and pin her place, his lips upon hers. She kissed him back with a passionate, needy fire, wormming her hands free to tug and clutch at the front of his jacket. Vulpes cradled her face in his hands. They kissed and moaned into each other’s mouths before they finally separated long enough to find the first room with ample enough bedding for them to fuck on.

Amongst the trash of the now dead raiders, their clothes were haphazardly tossed to the floor, and Vulpes got to see a very intimate view of the object of his desire. He knew she was small, but perhaps not like this. Her legs were slender, muscled thighs, no doubt from her long travels by foot. Her hips were narrow, definitely not baby bearing hips. Her small breasts sat above a flat stomach, her skin so pale. Her neck was thin, her shoulders boney, her arms also long and slender with those spindly fingers. Her skin was marked with old scars, compressions from armor and clothes, a tattoo on her shoulder-

She wasn’t the ideal breeding stock of the Legion, painfully average of a wastelander, but Venus whispered into his ear as Cupid’s bow found its mark, and Vulpes thought her gorgeous nonetheless. There was just something about her, on in the inside, those predatory eyes filling with lust that she stared him down with. Her giggle as he worked his pants off, and his cock bounced free, already so eager. He hadn’t meant to go commando, honest, he just hadn’t- Well it wasn’t like he was expecting- It probably didn’t matter anyway.

“You’re so skinny,” Betha commented as he disrobed, gliding her fingers along his sinewy skin, tracing the outlines of his muscles.

“Does that displease you?” Vulpes chuckled, shucking off the last of his clothes and pulling her flush against him.

“No, not at all. Was just thinking you don’t fit the ideal, big dumb Legion muscle.”

“What can I say? Brain over brawn?”

She laughed, her nose crinkling up, her smile so genuine and bright, Vulpes decided he wanted to see that smile as much as he could. Ashamed he should have felt, falling for this profligate, this NCR whore, falling so quickly and so hard for her. Still knew nothing about her, was still her enemy (for now). It would be so easy, let her come to him, any Legionnaire with half a brain would collar her immediately, and Vulpes would be the first to bid on her.

But no. No that wouldn’t be a fitting end for her. It wouldn’t suit her, slavery. Not in the slightest. She’d be killed for the trouble of trying to break. She’d break her captors before they could break her. He loved that.

They fell to the meager beds, hands everywhere but one another’s genitals, mouths on mouths, then lips ghosting along skin that pressed into it moments later. His pretty-face courier looked thin and unassuming, but he could feel the hard muscles just hiding under that pale skin. She was strong, so strong, not soft either, definitely not some pampered vault dweller or city slicker.

“What tribe was this?” Vulpes asked her, kissing at the ink on her shoulder, and traveling his way up to her neck.

“One that doesn’t matter anymore,” was Betha’s simple reply. “You’d know a lot about that, huh?”

He paused briefly, then gently nipped at her. She gasped in pleasure, then wrenched his head up to kiss him on the lips. They parted, then she lied back to allow Vulpes to lavish her _elsewhere_.

From there, Vulpes could only describe his time in the arms of the courier as utterfly delightful. She didn’t weakly resist him, vain attempts to fight him off, nor did she simply lie back and let him have his way with her. No, no, she was far and away from the usual Legion slave that was too broken and beaten inside to try.

Not that he was rough with her though, or at least, intentionally. Vulpes was never taught to be gentle, never taught how to actually _please_ someone else sexually. But she kept him in line, threatening with teeth at his cock, or the gun just within reach. Betha kept silently reminding him that she could hurt him as badly as he could hurt her. He appreciated that.

The sex was fantastic though. The way she slammed herself down on his cock, her hands scrabbling at his shoulders. Or when they flipped over and he pumped himself into her, their groans echoing in the room between the slaps of skin on skin. They spent far too long together in that room, reality slipping away from them. Yet, they still found time to actually connect, to sit back, let their bodies rest from intense orgasms, raiding whatever provisions the raiders had to replenish their strength.

Vulpes knew, in the back of his mind, that he had spent _far_ too long with her. That he should be half-way back to Cottonwood Cove, but no, he couldn’t possibly pull himself away from her now. Not when retribution was at hand, he moving to try and grab her, to punish her for teasingly showering him with stale, two hundred year old cereal. Easier said than done, she was slippery, evading his grasp only to throw herself at him, and they wrestled on the floor in their naked glory like young children.

To which, afterwards, when their arousal had peaked once more, they fucked, and fucked, and fucked some more until sleep finally pulled at their limbs and they dozed in a filthy, disgusting mess. It was honestly the most exciting night that Vulpes had in a very, very long time.

When morning came at last, they cleaned themselves up the best they could, dressed, and escaped the building, the halls had stunk up overnight with the bodies rotting inside. They parted, for real, one last passionate kiss, a promise to see one another again soon. She went back to the Strip, he finally on his way back to his master.

Days passed, Vulpes had returned to the Fort, went back to his duties, and when the sun began to crest on the horizon of the fourth day since his night with the courier, word over their radio that they had a visitor downriver at Cottonwood. At last, Caesar's patience was rewarded, and Benny was pulled out from his cell.

Vengeance was about to come walking in, and she was a real bitch when she was angry.


	4. Along came a courier

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> scuttles in to dump this on the floor and backs out with snapping finger guns

Vulpes went down to the camp’s entrance to personally welcome the Courier. He kept his head tall, and back straight as he marched through the fort. His heart pounded only slightly, personally betraying his excitement to see his favorite, pretty mailgirl. What sort of asset would she be to his Lord? What sort of effect would her presence have on the men? Could she be trusted to roam amongst them, or would she be the harbinger of their unwitting doom?

There was something more to her than just her pretty face. Something more devious and chilling behind her sweet smiles and almost fae-like movement. That _something_ , whatever it was, made Vulpes eager to see.

When he finally arrived at the camp’s entrance, he was greeted to an amusing sight; the Courier was being stripped of her weapons and other “banned” items. Which, judging by the frustrated look of the gate guards, and the growing pile of goods in a trunk at their feet, was going- Ah- Well?

“My goodness,” Vulpes purred as he approached, gazing down into the weapons trunk. Guns, grenades, ammo for days. “How _do_ you carry it all?”

“I have my ways,” Betha smirked at him, standing stock still with her arms out, as the guards patted along her person in an attempt to find more contraband. She didn’t seem to mind, just smiled smugly. Vulpes shooed the guard away, glancing over her once, before reaching out to dive his hand down the front of her shirt, and rummaged around in her bra until he pulled a folded up switchblade out.

“Oh no, the oldest trick in the book,” the Courier bemoaned playfully. Vulpes dropped the switchblade into the pile as the guards grumbled unhappily. She would have gotten away it if Vulpes hadn’t already known to look there. It didn’t help that he already saw her stuff it in there once, the morning after their night long sexcapades. 

(Unless she put it there on purpose, wanting him to fondle her breasts, but that would have required her to know beforehand he’d come to personally greet her like this….)

“She’s clean,” Vulpes declared. “Lord Caesar must not be kept waiting any longer. With me, _Courier_.”

“Bye boys,” the Courier blew a kiss to the guards as she and Vulpes began to walk off. She made a show of re-fixing her shirt as they did, and Vulpes was sure she heard one of the men snarl “Degenerate” at her back. But Betha didn’t pay it any mind if she did.

“You need to behave yourself,” Vulpes warned her lowly, grabbing her arm and pulling her close. “Guest or no, these men won’t hesitate to try and show you their place.”

“That’d be cute,” Betha replied, sounding completely unconcerned. Vulpes let her go with a shake of his head. She could play pretend, treat this like a game all she wanted, but his words still held merit, and perhaps she knew that. She _must_ have known if she was so willing to walk into the lion’s den. But her arrogance would cost her nonetheless. Her overwhelming charisma and charm wasn’t going to save her here.

He led her up the steps to the Fort proper, passing by slaves and recruits in training. She watched them all, her smile having long since disappeared and her face growing stony. The slaves, with heavy loads on their backs, only looked at her once in shock and awe at the sight of a free woman, before quickly dropping their gazes back to the ground.

The children, the young boys running laps up and down the stairs stopped to let them pass, and the boys stared at her in equal awe until their instructor screamed at them to continue on. Betha seemed almost unfazed, but Vulpes could see that look in her eyes. Cold, calculating, taking stock of everything around her and storing the information away for later. He had hoped she’d be appalled, angry, bristle up in righteous fury.

She did none of that. Not even after they entered the Fort itself, and more slaves and men stared at her, she remained passive, almost uninterested. Until she tugged at his arm and asked, with a point, “Oooh, what’s that?”

“Ah, our arena,” he nodded. There was no one in there now, but perhaps a fight would be arranged soon, to show her the fierceness of the Legion.

“Like, with gladiators?” She asked excitedly, starting to light up. “And lions?”’

“The former, yes. The latter, no,” he chuckled. “Where would we get the lions?”

“I dunno. Maybe use deathclaws?” She suggested. “I’d fight ‘em”.

“Of course you would,” he rolled his eyes. “Sadly, the arena is _not_ open to _female_ challengers, so don’t get your hopes up.”

“Oh,” Betha said, her smile dropping, but that calculating look in her eyes again. Vulpes had the distinct feeling she’d get her way regardless. She wasn’t a woman who took “no” as a final, hard answer. He found it insanely attractive. His urge to show her how much would have to wait, Ceaser awaited them.

The Praetorian who stood guard at the tent’s entrance sneered at the Courier, and Betha responded by sticking her tongue out back at him. The Praetorian laughed and pulled the tent flap aside, allowing them passage.

“You will kneel before him and only speak when spoken to, do you understand?” Vulpes hissed into her ear as they stepped inside. “One false move, and he _will_ have you killed without hesitation, regardless of how useful you are to him.”

“I got this, I’ll be fine,” Betha assured, and fell back to let Vulpes lead her in. They fell silent as they walked into Caesar's chambers, his Lord still lounging in his chair. Vulpes dropped to his knee before him, and Betha quickly did the same just behind him.

“Lord Caesar, I present to you, the Courier,” Vulpes announced, rising up to thump his fist against his chest, then stepping aside to take his place in the court.

“So, this is the girl who’s been giving everyone so much trouble,” Caesar began, staring down at her unimpressed. “Who rose from the grave to wreak havoc across the entire desert to exact vengeance on one man. You, who wiped out the Fiends, foiled our plans at Camp McCarran, and was welcomed with open arms into the Lucky 38, free to come and please as you go.”

Betha remained silent, making the smallest of smirks at the floor.

“And now you come all this way, defenseless, expecting the same welcome treatment you got on the Strip, _really_ thinking you were gonna be safe here?”

She looked up at him now, her smirk widening to a toothy grin.

“You got a lot of nerve walking in here with that shit eating grin on your face,” Ceaser frowned.

“Sure do,” Betha chirped cheerfully. Caesar's frown deepened and deepened, the tension in the room growing stronger as the Courier gazed up at him like she had been told some silly joke. Vulpes had already prepared himself for this possibility, and while he found her attractive (and good in the sack), he would ultimately not miss the Courier upon her death, and he’d live on without her as he had been doing so before-

And then Ceaser started cracking up. The Praetorians glanced at each other uneasily, ready to spring into action, but curious as to what amused their Master so.

“I like you, kid,” Ceaser laughed. “You got a lot of guts, doing what you do. Perhaps I have use of someone with your talents after all.”

“How may I serve you, Lord Ceaser?” Betha asked politely, even pronouncing his name correctly, the same way the Legion did. _By Mars_ , she was good.

“I know you didn’t come here just to see hear what I have to say. I know you’re here for this,” and Ceaser pulled the platinum chip out from his pocket. The Courier’s gaze locked on to it, her expression nearly impossible to read. Her feelings seemed to be mixed about that chip. “And more importantly, I know you’re here for _him_.”

With a snap of his fingers, a guard stepped out from the shadows, shoving a figure to the ground as he did. Benny’s hands were bound, and a gag was around his mouth. He struggled and grumbled at the guard before looking up to see the Courier there. He visibly panicked as Betha’s attention turned towards him.

Wordlessly, the Courier rose to her feet and _stalked_ towards him. Vulpes could only describe it as a puma circling her prey before leaping in for the final strike. Her movements were predatory like one, stepping around Benny like a piece of meat, like the lamb awaiting slaughter. She looked hungry for blood.

“So kid, here’s the deal,” Caesar spoke back up. “I’ll give you this stupid chip, if you run an errand for me. Do this, you’ll keep the chip, _and_ I’ll give you a special reward; killing that pretentious fuck any way you please.”

Betha’s head rolled up to look towards him.

“What needs to be done?” She asked.

“At the back of the Fort is an old weather station. Completely useless to us, but inside are the symbols of the Lucky 38, the symbols of House. I think there’s something down there that House needs, and I want you to _destroy_ it. I don’t care what’s in there, I just want it gone, one less advantage House has over me. Shouldn’t be too hard for you, right?”

“It will be done,” Betha agreed without a moment of hesitation. “Your wish shall be granted, Lord Caesar.”


End file.
